


The Hollow: Part I

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Series: Hell is Empty [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Assault, Canon Compliant to 11x16, Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Sexual Assault, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes a desperate ploy to convince Cas to come back to him. Plan or not, he'll save Cas from Lucifer, or die trying.</p><p>Part 1 of a 2 part story</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6819286">Part II can be found here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Run, desire, run  
> Sexual being, run him like a blade  
> To and through the heart, no conscience  
> One motive: cater to the hollow
> 
> Screaming "feed me here!  
> Fill me up again!  
> Temporarily pacify this hunger that's so cruel..."  
> “The Hollow” ~A Perfect Circle

Dean’s stomach bottomed out, and it didn’t have anything to do with being at the end of the devil’s arm. It was those goddamn blue eyes staring back at him.

“Why can’t you just get a new meat suit?”

“Because your brother’s got his panties on lock down, and this one is surprisingly stable for the amount of energy in it.” Lucifer rolled his shoulders, eyes slipping away as his attention flopped inward, then snapped back out just as quick. “But, maybe--and I really mean this-- maybe most of all, because it bothers you. 

“Now, I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday, Dean. My brother might be a little doltish on human subtleties, but I’m not. I can see right through you.” 

He dragged a finger down Dean’s chin, trailed it off the edge. Plucked playfully at his chest. Those pink lips crawled up at the corners. “This isn’t what he really looks like, you know? This isn’t his voice. These aren’t his fingers. Or his lips.” His voice caught along the corners of Cas’ signature gravel, misuse of his vocal chords starting to show. “Or his tongue, in case you were wondering.”

“Those’re his eyes,” Dean spurned. “You can’t tell me who, or what he is, because I already know. I see it every-fucking-day in those eyes.” His foot shifted in the gravel, the streetlamp near the warehouse flickering on with an eerie buzz as the horizon ate the sun, and erased hope from the parking lot.

“That so?”

“ I’m so wrong, why don’t you just cast him out? Huh? Since when does  _ I-Love-Luci _ like tandem biking with another angel? You need him in the vessel because that vessel  _ is him _ .”

Lucifer smiled. “You poor, disillusioned sonofabitch. Did no one have the _how-an -angel-walks-the-planet_ speech with you?”

“I remember what he looked like when Jimmy was still knockin’ around in there, and, it wasn’t this. Jimmy’s been gone a long time, and Cas’ been in there ever since. Fucking tell me I’m wrong! You show me that this isn’t him, and cast him out!” 

Dean just wanted him back-- _needed_ him back. He’d take him anyway he could get him, even if that meant a different face. _As long as he’s safe…_ he thought, but, he held his breath just the same, because, _fuck!_ He knew he was right. He’d felt it for years. Cas had sunk into that vessel. He wasn’t just a part of it anymore, he _was it_. The human tics he’d developed, the way he always rubbed his eyes when he got tired: It stood out like a trucker on a tricycle. None of the other angels ever fussed at their clothing, or squinted aging eyes at Dean’s chicken scratch notes. Maybe he still had grace rattling in the corners, but he was more human than he was angelic, and it wasn’t the first time Dean’d taken the time to think it.

_What do you do when Pinocchio becomes a real boy?_ The thought would slip back out just as quick, because the only answer to that particular question gave Dean an arrhythmia, and the itch to clean out one side of his room. 

He waited, eyes running mad through that stupid trench coat. It was the same body, but somehow the clothes fit it all wrong now. “You can’t,” he said, the sentiment stagnating. His stomach pulled in two directions, because that meant he was right--this was Cas now. He was looking at him. But it also meant, “he’s the host.” 

Lucifer pursed his lips, eyes drawing thin. He shrugged and his face suddenly went slack. “My brother is, and always has been, some kind of mutated abomination. He’s managed to fuze himself in here, unfortunately.”

“He’s not your brother. Not anymore.”

“But, how does knowing that help you? Unless you’re gonna call Sammy up and suggest a lil swap--”

“No.”

“Then, you don’t get it back. I keep it.”

“Him!”

“You need me to defeat the Darkness--”

“You can go straight to hell--”

“Oh, literally?”

“\--if you think we won’t find some other way to deal with Amara and the goddamn--”

Lucifer grabbed a handful of Dean’s shirt, and shoved him against the dirty brick. The metal sign above him rattling. 

_Eddie’s Towing and Salvage: CLOSED._

“ _Goddamned_ is right. This whole planet is damned. And you’re standing here with nothing but that ridiculous little angel blade in your belt and a hope and dream you can reason with me. But, you can’t reason with the devil. Haven’t you ever heard that? The only thing you can do with the devil is make a deal.”

Dean shuddered, Lucifer’s fingers digging ditches into his skin. Those blue eyes looking back, wholly vacant. It was almost as if Lucifer could take over every part of the vessel, but try as he might, he couldn’t reach those divine eyes. “What do you want?”

“I already told you. You need to work on your careful listening skills.”

“I can’t give you Sam--I won’t!”

“Then what do you propose, Dean? Where do I go? How do you get your broken angel back when you’ve got nothing to offer me?”

“Back to Hell!” Dean screamed. Nerves got the better of him, and he spit, watched Lucifer wince and lick a haughty tongue along his teeth before slowly wiping it away. The rage itched Dean’s nerves just the same, washing his body numb. Those fingertips could dig straight through his sternum if they wanted to. He wasn’t going to bend to them. 

“Now you’re just flirting,” Lucifer said. “You naughty little asshole. You know I only have eyes for your brother.” He sunk against Dean, easy and quick, pressed him into the wall and nosed along his jaw, licking a hot line at the bend of his neck. He caught Dean’s skin between his teeth and paused, made sure Dean understood just how painful this could be before he backed off with an easy nip. “But you don’t care who’s driving this meat, do you?” he whispered into Dean’s ear. “You just want a ride.”

Dean’s heart hammered in his ears.“Fuck you,” he squirmed.

“Oh, yeah, you can. We can _fuck_ until _you_ can’t look in these eyes anymore. I can _fuck you_ , Dean, until all you ever want in this world is to forget his name.” 

His eyes swung low and fell dark as he rubbed a heavy palm up Dean’s thigh, fingers trailing lines behind it. Nails scraping marks into his skin, bunching his jeans and threatening to tear. “I’ll even talk like him, if you want,” he said dropping his voice into Cas’ signature drawl. A decrepit smile fell into a wide _O_ as he reached Dean’s dick and fingered him under his jeans, relentless and unforgiving, jerking fingers into his nuts and holding him there. Dean snapped his eyes shut, his mouth cotton ball-dry, his stomach rolling.

“Cas,” he said trying to swallow the sick. Trying in vain to find his voice again.

“Yeah, Dean. Call me Cas. Whatever gets you hard,” he shrugged. “Or not. I don’t care.”

“I don’t know what you want, an’ I been tryin’ not to bleed through--sway you, or whatever, but I can’t do it anymore--”

Lucifer clicked his tongue. “You’re talking like I’m not even here. That’s rude.”

“Cas, I need you to listen, you gotta understand--”

“No, he get’s it, that’s the reason he turned the reigns over.”

“\--I did a lot of shitty things when I had the Mark--a lot of horrible things, but what I did to you was the worst--”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, this would’ve been over four pages ago if not for your stupid connection to the Darkness.”

“\--and I’m sorry. I shoulda said it a long time ago. I shoulda said a lot of things, but I dropped the ball--”

“Dean Winchester, you fucking sap. Look at you trying so damn hard to make things right. It’s commendable, really. A little too late, but a commendable effort for a Winchester.”

“Shut the fuck up! I ain’t talkin’ to you!”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed. He wrenched Dean’s wrist, and it took his knees out from under him. Dean yipped and crumpled, curled with the pain. “You so easily forget who I am,” he said looking down quietly. His belt tagged Dean in the chin. “What I’m capable of.” 

“I know exactly who you are,” Dean grunted, the conviction lost at the edge of a stifled scream. He felt his angel blade in his waistband, but it was just a passing thought. It might be there, but even if he got to it, he wouldn’t be able to use it--Not on Cas. Never on Cas. It didn’t matter who or what he was towing. Dean owed him more than that. 

So, childish insults were all he had left, and he was smart enough to know all they were only going to do was escalate the situation. But he’d started this plan in the basement, and there was no more _down_ to fall, so he might as well start digging. It was a shit plan, but _goddammit_ , he was either gonna get Cas back, or take the punishment for failing.

There were no two ways.

“You’re the fuck-up daddy invented jail for,” he said grounding himself. “The piece of shit who stole my friend. And the chicken-dicked prick who’s gonna go back to the cage, or die trying.” 

Lucifer smiled, and it tugged Cas’ lips the wrong direction. Squirmed worms into Dean’s gut. 

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he said, fisting a handful of Dean’s hair, and jerking his head back, exposing the curve of his neck.

He tapped the fold of his zipper, and teased a finger down his fly. Stroked the outline of his own dick, already half-hard and pulling the fabric. “Guess how we’re starting?” he whispered, eyebrow arching as he kept the finger trailing off himself and onto Dean’s face. He brushed a soft circle over Dean’s lips. “You like working that mouth? Let’s see some magic, huh? Open up.”

_Jesus._

Dean jerked away, but it was too late. Lucifer had hold of him, fingers dug deep into his face, prying his jaw open. His teeth cut into the insides of his cheeks, and he could taste pennies again. He grabbed desperately back, got a handful of coat and made a desperate play for the tie hanging in his face. Yanked. He knocked Lucifer off balance, and managed to slip from his grasp, scrambling his mouth free. 

“Cas!” he said said again, a scream just barely molding into his friend’s name. His jaw burned, his hands already shaking, adrenaline on full pour. “Please! I don’t deserve you! I know it, God, I know it, but I swear I’ll do anything to show you what you mean to me. I need you, you sonofabitch. You can’t do this… not like this!” 

Lucifer righted, and came back with a slap. The sting knocked the words from Dean’s mouth, but the punch that followed it turned his thoughts to colors. It connected at his temple and shot sparks through his eyes, jarred him sideways.

Then, again. 

The hit tossed his brain, and boiled the bile in his stomach. He blindly defended, but Lucifer bat his hands away, palmed his forehead, and slammed his skull into the wall, quick and brutal. 

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Dean yelped and slumped, loose. Blood drooled out of him as he chased a thought around like a game of _Go Fish_. 

_What the fuck do I… Go Fish._

_How the hell do I… Go Fish._

He couldn’t find what he was looking for, so he grabbed onto the coat in front of him instead. Something about that seemed right. 

_Cas…_

Lucifer hauled him up and forced his way onto Dean’s lap, straddled him, clawing fingers into his jaw again, and jerking their faces together. 

“I drained him,” he growled, his words curling like a spent match. “You think he’s got the power to save you? I put a stop to that when he strong-armed me to keep your brother alive. You’re wasting your breath. He’s got no grace left. All you did was get his attention. Now he has to be witness. He’s gonna watch me fuck you bloody, then turn you over, and start all over again. Can you see him, Dean? Look at me!”

His fingernails mined blood from Dean’s cheeks as Dean struggled for that necessary- _fucking_ -thought.

“Can you see him?” he growled again. “Because I can feel him clawing!”

Eye to eye, that dead sea blue had something alive in it again, and it choked Dean awake. He caught the spark and hung onto it for dear life. “Cas…” he said, voice cracking, nerves shot. He stumbled cold fingers to his friend’s face, dirt and blood smearing through his whiskers. “I’m sorry.” He kept those damn eyes locked, even though the world around him dipped and spun. “Please don’t leave me… I love you.”

  
  


Lucifer ticked. Just a small twitch under his left brow: an involuntary stutter. His attention swam away, searching. Lost in the muddy gravel underfoot. “Fuck,” he mumbled in a wisp of breath, then, suddenly, everything in his face shifted right again. Those eyes snapped back, round and wet. 

_Fucking horrified._

Dean’s stomach crawled into his throat. All his doubt drowned out in that expression. “Cas.” 

The name caught up in his mouth, and stumbled into a sob.

Cas’ clawed fingers melted soft, and he cupped Dean’s face as reality rushed him. Dean saw the moment it hit. Agony washed him white, and kicked tears down his cheeks. “No…” he said, shaking his head.

“Cas--”

He fell off of Dean’s lap and scrambled away, stumbled onto unsteady feet. “No--no, no,” he pleaded into the quiet parking lot, eyes darting. “I have to stop this.”

“Okay, hang on. Wait--”

“It was never supposed to--I never meant--” He flared his coat, felt along his belt, patted his breast, his sleeve. Searching. He growled, scanned the muddy rock.

Dean stumbled after him, fell into the wall, dizzy, then steadied himself. “Take a breath,” he said holding hands up. His temples throbbed as he blinked back a wave of nausea. “Listen to me!” Cas backed up, so Dean stayed. “I don’t care what he said about the Darkness--or, what he said about anything. I only care about one thing. You, Cas. You understand? You gotta toss the devil out. Now.”

The wind took a turn through the lot, and rolled cold through Dean’s shirt. Cas’ eye caught at Dean’s waist before stumbling uneasy to his face again. He shivered, shook his head, some thought knotting up in his shoulders. 

“I can’t do that,” he whispered, the base in his voice gone. He sounded hollow.

“Yes you can. You’ve got him on lock down, and I know you’re strong enough. I know you. You can do anything. Plus,” he rose an eyebrow as he did his best to conjure some enthusiasm. “You got me, and you got Sam. You’re not alone in this fight--in any fight. Just cast him out and we’ll figure the rest of it out later. Like we always do. T _ogether._ Team Free Will, remember? We don’t need any of these other sons of bitches.”

He eased a foot forward again and this time Cas let him, but the tension was palpable. Everything eggshells.

He watched his friend shuffle, reached out and touched his arm. When he didn’t pull away, Dean tugged him into a gentle hug. 

“I miss you,” he said against him, stomach lost somewhere. “You gotta understand how much you mean to me. I couldn’t do this without you--I don’t want to. I’m lost without you. I’m chasin’ my tail to get you back, you understand? I don’t care why you did it. I just want you to come home.”

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, tears biting through his face. They picked up the streetlight and threw a good impression of the stars. Dean thumbed his lip, wanted to wipe the shiver away. The tears. He wanted to make sure Cas understood there was more hanging in the balance than good and evil. So, he kissed him. Tasted him. Breathed him in. Curled fingers into his hair and let the warmth of their bodies fight the chill. 

Soft and quiet, the intimacy nearly took his own knees out, but, Cas... He unraveled. He huffed into Dean. A whine pulled from the back of his throat as he balled fingers at the front of Dean’s shirt. It was the kind of sound that repainted the sky. 

The moment sat and bled until they were breathing each others air and stilting opportunity into the darkness.

“See?” Dean said, pitchy, after he found his feet again. “I need you.”

Cas gasped. Clenched his teeth, the muscle at the back of his jaw working overtime. Hurt and ache ate through him and found its way into those balled fingertips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice cracked and broke.

Then, Dean felt the blade slip from his belt. 

“What’re you doing?”

He would’ve grabbed it, would’ve stopped him, but his brain was running a two second delay. The panic was a slow creep. One too many hits against the brick. A few too many stripped nerves. He grabbed for it, but it was already too late. Cas fisted the hilt, turning it toward himself as he stepped back.

“No! What are you doing?”

  
  


The lot erupted in a bright burst of light. It struck Dean like a sledgehammer to the family jewels, and he fell back, hid his eyes in the crook of his arm. Screamed, his heart singing anthems in his ears. The shrill, bright dissonant ring of the angelic implosion washed the world sterile and blotted serenity from the dark.

Then, deafening silence. Crawling shadows like death omens stretching thick across the pocked lot. Dean’s fingers buried in the dirty rock. Aching as he squeezed the stones and braced against the rush of all those dragging thoughts catching back up at once. 

_He just fucking killed himself. And he took my blade to do it. This isn’t happening. It’s a fucking dream. This whole thing--a goddamn nightmare. Wake up, just wake up. You gotta wake up._

A black feather floated down, landed between his hands, and his breath snagged. Panic burned through him like an acid bath. 

“No! No, no, no, no! Fuck!”

He stumbled onto wobbly knees, blinked against spotty vision, and stared at the mask of black wings burned into the lot. The spread sullied the dark rock darker.

Cas pinned through the middle.

_A fucking chalk outline for angels._

Dean’s stomach rolled. He floundered over and lost his feet. Crumbled onto the gravel top, and gagged. Tried like hell to keep his stomach down. 

“Just breathe,” he rasped to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

_Fuck._

_Breathe._

He opened them again tried to center himself on a deep breath.

He hooked a finger on the edge of Cas’ coat, and pulled it. Watched the blood seep up around the blade, and slowly soak through his shirt, running rivulets down the side of him and dribble hot into the gravel below. “Cas, you stupid sonofabitch…”

He pressed a palm near the wound and suddenly Cas gasped. Eyes rolling opening, mouth yawning wide. 

Dean jerked back, Caught in the surprise as reality caught up.

_Holy shit, he’s not dead._

Dean grabbed his chin, pulled his eyes open wider and watched the pupil react. The spark in there was unmistakable. If Dean knew anything in the whole goddamn world, he knew that now. 

_Cas._

“Oh, God, you’re not dead. How are you not dead?” He realized he was talking, but all his words ran together as adrenaline cranked his dial. He took another breath. “Hey, you with me, buddy?”

Cas sputtered, and coughed, made lungs sounds like balled paper bag. Blood bubbling up and seeping down the side of his mouth. He looked up at Dean dazed, then snapped awake. He gasped and made a desperate grab for the hilt, the pain pooling his attention. 

“Whoa, hang on!” Dean yelled, tension playing his vocal cords like strings. “Don’t touch it. Cas, listen to me. Can you heal?”

Cas pulled at his fingers, writhed back and moaned. Dean grabbed his face.

“Cas, grace? Yes or no?”

Cas swallowed, throat jumping. His body started to shudder and that was answer enough. “Okay, you’re going into shock. I think you got a lung.” He shrugged his over shirt off and balled it around the wound. “Don’t touch the blade. It’s stemming the bleeding.” 

He grabbed for Cas’ hand and when Cas grabbed back, it caught him completely off guard. He swallowed hard. His jumpy gaze settled as he realized Cas was staring at him. He ate up the sight of those wide eyes, then slowly pulled his fingers from Cas’ grip. He pressed Cas’ hand into the shirt instead “Hold onto it,” he said softly. 

“Dean--”

“Shut up and keep pressure.”

He fumbled for his phone and blood smeared over the touch screen. He cursed himself and wiped it on his jeans, tried again and finally his touch registered. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said muscling a smile.

_You gotta be okay._

  
  
  



	2. Thinking of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to extreme differences in the tags, I decided to post this section as a separate fic. Just follow the link down the rabbit hole and you'll get there, Alice!

[The Hollow: Part II ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6819286)

[ Thinking of You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6819286)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm winchester-reload on tumblr


End file.
